ye’ve threatened her livelihood.” Besides, she had no intention of traveling to Glasgow with the man. She’d have to find a way to abandon him before they reached the border. But that shouldn’t be too difficult for a witch of her talents.
Dashiel grinned rakishly. “If she can prove her loyalty, I could be persuaded not to mention last night’s indiscretion.”
Blackmailing blackguard.
Lamont’s sigh of relief echoed throughout the small room. It wasn’t in anyone’s best interest for Cait to chastise the earl at the moment for his heavy-handed behavior. That could wait until later. She pasted a fraudulent smile on her face. “That does seem most fair, my lord.”
Who did he think he was to bully her around like that? She was going to teach the Earl of Brimsworth a lesson he wouldn’t ever forget. But timing was everything.
Seven
Dash was fairly pleased with his success. Caitrin Macleod was traveling in his carriage, directly across from him. Before much longer, he would have her in his bed, too. He nearly groaned aloud at the thought, but with the glares her maid continued to shoot at him, that wasn’t a particularly good idea.
He leaned his head back against the squabs and his gaze fell to Caitrin. She looked like an angel in the daylight, too, sitting so properly with her hands folded in her lap. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have her hands on his bare skin. Heaven in every sense of the word.
Caitrin turned her gaze from the window and settled her soft blue eyes on him. Besotted fool that he was, Dash’s breath caught in his throat. He managed to pull himself together and hoped she didn’t notice. “So nice not to travel alone.”
A tentative smile lit her face before she smothered it. “Why are ye headed ta Glasgow, my lord?”
“I already told you, Miss Macleod. My future’s there.” In every sense.
He really should ask the lass’ father for her hand. Do things properly. He hadn’t asked for Prisca Hawthorne’s hand until it was too late. Besides, he hadn’t been in love with Prisca Hawthorne. He didn’t quite believe in the emotion, but he’d liked her quite a bit. She would have made the perfect countess. She was beautiful, poised, and could manage a household with no effort at all. He’d even played the gallant. But that hadn’t stopped William Westfield from snatching her out from under Dash’s nose.
The loss of Prisca had been a blow to his ego, but his heart had been unaffected. Staring at the beautiful blonde across from him, so different from Prisca in almost every way, Dash wasn’t certain he could survive if he lost Caitrin. But was that because of the connection that tied him to her, or was it something even more than that?
She was a lady; there was no question about it, with the way she held herself so proudly. But a Scot? He could just imagine the look on his father’s face when he found out. If the Lycan news didn’t finish the old buzzard off, a Scottish daughter-in-law might do the trick. That thought brought a smile to Dash’s face.
“What is so amusin’, my lord?” Caitrin asked him.
“I was just thinking about my father.” Not that the powerful Marquess of Eynsford was his true sire, but odds were the vicious old man didn’t know that. Or maybe he did, Dash didn’t care anymore. “I think you’d knock him off his feet.”
A pretty pink stained her cheeks, and Dash bit back a smile. She wasn’t immune to flattery. He’d keep that in mind. He’d charm her right out of her dress if all else failed.
The irritating maid cleared her throat, so he must have given something away on his face. Dash raised his brow, daring her to say something. After the way she neglected her duties, it was quite something for her to attempt to chastise him .
A giggle escaped Caitrin’s throat and he returned his gaze to her, which suited him just fine. “Have you always lived in Glasgow, Miss Macleod?”
The maid
Dashiel grinned rakishly. “If she can prove her loyalty, I could be persuaded not to mention last night’s indiscretion.”
Blackmailing blackguard.
Lamont’s sigh of relief echoed throughout the small room. It wasn’t in anyone’s best interest for Cait to chastise the earl at the moment for his heavy-handed behavior. That could wait until later. She pasted a fraudulent smile on her face. “That does seem most fair, my lord.”
Who did he think he was to bully her around like that? She was going to teach the Earl of Brimsworth a lesson he wouldn’t ever forget. But timing was everything.
Seven
Dash was fairly pleased with his success. Caitrin Macleod was traveling in his carriage, directly across from him. Before much longer, he would have her in his bed, too. He nearly groaned aloud at the thought, but with the glares her maid continued to shoot at him, that wasn’t a particularly good idea.
He leaned his head back against the squabs and his gaze fell to Caitrin. She looked like an angel in the daylight, too, sitting so properly with her hands folded in her lap. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have her hands on his bare skin. Heaven in every sense of the word.
Caitrin turned her gaze from the window and settled her soft blue eyes on him. Besotted fool that he was, Dash’s breath caught in his throat. He managed to pull himself together and hoped she didn’t notice. “So nice not to travel alone.”
A tentative smile lit her face before she smothered it. “Why are ye headed ta Glasgow, my lord?”
“I already told you, Miss Macleod. My future’s there.” In every sense.
He really should ask the lass’ father for her hand. Do things properly. He hadn’t asked for Prisca Hawthorne’s hand until it was too late. Besides, he hadn’t been in love with Prisca Hawthorne. He didn’t quite believe in the emotion, but he’d liked her quite a bit. She would have made the perfect countess. She was beautiful, poised, and could manage a household with no effort at all. He’d even played the gallant. But that hadn’t stopped William Westfield from snatching her out from under Dash’s nose.
The loss of Prisca had been a blow to his ego, but his heart had been unaffected. Staring at the beautiful blonde across from him, so different from Prisca in almost every way, Dash wasn’t certain he could survive if he lost Caitrin. But was that because of the connection that tied him to her, or was it something even more than that?
She was a lady; there was no question about it, with the way she held herself so proudly. But a Scot? He could just imagine the look on his father’s face when he found out. If the Lycan news didn’t finish the old buzzard off, a Scottish daughter-in-law might do the trick. That thought brought a smile to Dash’s face.
“What is so amusin’, my lord?” Caitrin asked him.
“I was just thinking about my father.” Not that the powerful Marquess of Eynsford was his true sire, but odds were the vicious old man didn’t know that. Or maybe he did, Dash didn’t care anymore. “I think you’d knock him off his feet.”
A pretty pink stained her cheeks, and Dash bit back a smile. She wasn’t immune to flattery. He’d keep that in mind. He’d charm her right out of her dress if all else failed.
The irritating maid cleared her throat, so he must have given something away on his face. Dash raised his brow, daring her to say something. After the way she neglected her duties, it was quite something for her to attempt to chastise him .
A giggle escaped Caitrin’s throat and he returned his gaze to her, which suited him just fine. “Have you always lived in Glasgow, Miss Macleod?”
The maid
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